Enforcer Unleashed: Feral Pack, #3

Prologue

The forest whipped by in a green and brown blur as he ran, his four furry feet finding purchase on the loamy ground. He panted, the hotness of it puffing in the cooler air. His heart raced as he moved quickly and quietly. Try as he might, he couldn’t escape the distant baying of the hounds.

Don’t get caught. He’d seen what happened to those who stumbled. He was the last of his litter after all.

Branches snagged at his fur, the red of it bright against the foliage all around. Matted in spots, he’d not properly groomed since being placed in the tiny cage. A cage too small to stretch in.

The lack of movement and exercise could be felt in his trembling muscles. He wanted nothing more than to stop. Breathe. Rest.

Instead, he had to run faster. Forget hiding, the tracking dogs would sniff him out, and then there’d be no hope of saving himself.

Bursting out of the woods into a clearing, which under different circumstances would have been pretty with its patch of wildflowers growing in the bright sun, he stumbled and plowed into the grass muzzle first as he tried to halt his momentum.

A gangly kit, he could only push back to four feet and try not to shake too hard at the sight of the person standing before him. A female by scent, the fur atop her head silvery and lush. Her eyes captivated with their strange kaleidoscope of colors.

No words were spoken, and yet, when she tilted her head, he understood. Get behind.

Why? He didn’t understand why a stranger would offer her body as a shield, but he was old enough to grasp she didn’t appear to mean him any harm, unlike the dogs and their masters.

He slunk around to the rear of the woman and eyed the edge of the forest on the other side. Should he run for it while she appeared distracted?

His ears pricked as a hound bayed. Close. So very close now.

A low, growling rumble had him glancing at the woman again as she stepped forward. Unafraid of the approaching dogs. She didn’t know of the hunters who followed them.

He yipped.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Fear not, little kit, she whispered.

He gave another short bark that he hoped she understood as a warning. Danger.

She winked and bared her teeth in a wicked smile. It oddly reassured.

As the first of the dogs emerged into the clearing, she uttered a single piercing whistle that almost made him howl.

He watched with wide eyes as she charged the hounds that had been tracking him. With long strides, she headed for the barking dogs, ignoring the fact they outnumbered her five to one.

Probably because she wasn’t attacking alone.

A pair of wolves emerged from the forest, a brindle and one so dark he’d be invisible at night. The sight of them proved enough to have the dogs tucking their tails and retreating in the direction they’d come from, wailing in fear.

The pair of newcomer wolves followed the hounds, but the silvery-haired female paused and turned back to eye him. It’s safe now. You don’t have to hide anymore.

In that moment he understood, She’s like me.

The knowledge had him shifting into his other shape, the two-legged one with spindly legs and soft belly. He didn’t often change, because his cage couldn’t accommodate his other side. His floppy red hair fell in his face, partially covering his eyes.

Expression soft, she smiled at him and held out her hand. Come with me, my special little kit. It’s time to take you somewhere safe. A place where you can thrive and grow.

He understood her words even though he didn’t speak. Apprehension beset him. Who was she? What did she want?

He heard a sharp, yelping cry of pain and snarls as the wolves clashed with the hounds. Hounds that would have hurt him if he’d been caught.

I promise, I don’t want to harm you. No one will ever harm you, or they will answer to me, she added in a low growl. You have my word as an emissary of the Lykosium.

While not used to kindness, he craved it. Something about this female asked him to trust. He clasped her outstretched fingers.

The woman, called Luna, took him home with her, raised him, protected him, and taught him to fight for himself.

When he hit manhood, and the opportunity presented itself, he paid back Luna’s generosity by serving her and, in the process, saved other Were from the fate he’d almost suffered.

And like those who’d hunted him and his kind, Kit showed no mercy.

One

Present Day.

When are you returning? Luna asked, her right as Kit’s superior and current head of the Lykosium Council. She was also his foster mother, but not when it came to council business.

Kit transferred the phone to his other ear before replying, Soon. My investigation here isn’t quite done. As a Lykosium enforcer, who also acted as a spy, Kit was one of the trusted few who ensured the Were Packs followed the rules, and if they didn’t, he brought them in for justice, or meted it out, depending on the circumstances.

Oh? Nothing else, just that simple word. Growing up, he’d known Luna not to be the type to ask many questions or force answers. It had proved oddly effective.

I’ve got a lead. Not much of one, and yet, it gnawed at his gut.

Do you, or are you letting your emotions cloud your judgment?

That would be a first, was his dry reply. His early childhood as a hunting toy for sadistic humans had left its mark. He didn’t trust easily, Luna being one of the few he truly cared for. He owed his life to her—and his dumb name. How original, naming a Were with impossible fox genetics Kit. In her defense, when she’d found him as a toddler, he’d had no name. No words. Nothing but an instinct for survival.

This is about that girl, Luna stated.

No need for a name, because she filled his mind.

Poppy Smith. Not her real name. Born Penelope Moondust Jameson, she was six years younger than Kit—not that age mattered.

He’d first come across her when on the trail of a Were gone feral. Kit had tracked Samuel, a former Alpha with abusive tendencies, to a remote ranch in Northern Alberta. He’d ended up finding more than he’d expected, including a woman who flinched at shadows.

As someone who’d once done the same, he’d recognized the signs of abuse. That had led to him investigating those living at the ranch, seeking a culprit, only to realize her fear resulted from abuse in her past. That should have been the end of it. Instead, he’d looked deeper. Once he’d started, the mystery had deepened.

This isn’t about Ms. Smith but rather her former Pack. It’s my belief something unnatural happened to them. Something that to this day caused Poppy to have night terrors. He’d heard her crying out. Not that he was stalking her, just doing his regular enforcer thing.

If you think it merits further investigation, then you have my blessing.

As if there could be any other outcome.

Thanks. He hung up and pondered his next move.

He had few options, given the Pack Penelope/Poppy used to belong to had disbanded quite a few years back. Already small in size, it had been decimated by a spate of accidental deaths, including that of the Alpha. The few left had scattered, including Penelope.

She hadn’t resurfaced until the return of her brother. Darian, her only sibling, had taken leave from the military to visit family, only to then request a discharge, citing personal issues, namely his mother’s death in a hunting accident. Which happened more than it should among the Were. It took only one bullet to end a life.

There existed a distinct possibility that Darian had abandoned his career to care for his younger sister. It didn’t explain the part where they’d disappeared, leaving behind no clue as to where or why. They’d not just relocated but changed their names and ended up in the most remote of locations.

Smelled like a secret to Kit.

Whatever the reason for their actions, he’d wager it had to do with why Poppy locked the doors even in this remote place. Explained why she jumped at the crack of a branch and her whimpers at night when a nightmare shook her.

What he didn’t understand? Why it bothered him. He’d found himself intrigued from the moment he’d seen her, a fragile-looking beauty, her hair a light brown, long and straight, her frame in need of a few more pounds to remove the gauntness. Ironically, she cooked. A lot. Judging by the expressions and exclamations of those she fed, she knew her stuff, even as she barely picked at her own meals.

He couldn’t blame the decadent aroma of her beef stew or the mouthwatering temptation of her apple pie for his obsession. His fascination with her began the first time he’d caught her lingering scent in the vegetable garden.

The most perfect aroma. It teased. Tempted. Made him want to get close.

A part of him understood why. The mating instinct. Not a thing he’d ever expected to experience, given he was only half Were. Yet, there was no denying he was drawn to Poppy. Also repelled, because he had no intention of ever settling down with anyone.

He hadn’t dug into her past because of his interest in her but because he’d been trained to sniff out danger. Something about her Pack and her situation didn’t smell right.

For one, Packs didn’t just disband. That required heavy attrition or tragedy. In this case, more than seven members had gone missing in a short period of time. As in gone without taking any of their things with them.

Their departure hadn’t gone unnoticed. However, the police had no leads at the time, and it hadn’t helped that no one filed any missing-person reports. Just like no one noticed when Penelope suddenly stopped attending her college culinary classes. She’d gone from getting almost-perfect grades to not showing up. And no one thought to find out why.

The why led to him diving deeper. He’d found more than expected. Poppy’s mother, Kora Jameson, only had the two kids. Her husband died when they were young. Some kind of construction incident. She’d never remarried and lived in the same house until selling it a year before her new place burned down—with her and her boyfriend of the time in it. Records showed the place being owned by a company renting to a Gerard Kline, a very wealthy man.

And that was all Kit could find on the man. No history, no pictures, nothing. He supposedly had died in the fire, too, not that his body was found, just Kora’s. The fire was ruled an accident—something about a nest in the chimney.

In a stroke of even worse luck, while Penelope Jameson had been fleeing the burning house, she’d been accidentally shot by what police assumed was a hunter. Had her brother not arrived to visit at just that very moment and provided first aid, she might not have survived. The hospital report listed extensive injuries, some that seemed to have little to do with gunshot wounds to her leg and in the gut.

The police hadn’t considered Penelope and her brother lucky and spent much time questioning the pair about the fire and the deaths of their mother and her boyfriend. In the end, they had nothing to charge them with, no sign of foul play.

When the hospital eventually released Penelope, she disappeared with her brother. And that should have been the end of it. Only…

Recently, it had been brought to the attention of the